


The way you always smile / Don't ever lose that

by ttakjoha (nematoda)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic, but also humor, definitely some angst, i just have a lot of feelings, it's not all sad I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nematoda/pseuds/ttakjoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s only a cough. Just a stupid, persistent summer cold. So why is Jinyoung here? Why is the doctor looking at him like that? Why is he saying words that don’t make sense?</p>
<p>“It’s called adenocarcinoma. It’s a type of non-small cell lung cancer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way you always smile / Don't ever lose that

It’s only a cough. Just a stupid, persistent summer cold. So why is he here? Why is the doctor looking at him like that? Why is he saying words that don’t make sense?

“It’s called adenocarcinoma. It’s a type of non-small cell lung cancer. Luckily, we caught it early.”

Jinyoung looks around the room, expecting some horribly sick person, the real recipient of this news, to be sitting immediately behind him. Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Is this Yugyeom’s idea of payback for that prank with the wine bottle?

“Jinyoung-ssi? Are you paying attention?” the doctor asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He looks very serious. Jinyoung feels the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

Oh.

Oh,  _ shit. _

“Yes. But I don’t understand. I’ve never smoked in my life,” Jinyoung reasons, flashing a nervous smile. Surely they got the charts mixed up. None of this makes any sense. He’s twenty-two, for fuck’s sake. This just doesn’t happen to twenty-two-year-olds, except in melodramas.

“You don’t have to have smoked to get lung cancer,” the doctor explains slowly. “It can happen to anyone, at any age. But like I said, we caught it early. You’re young. I have every confidence that you have a high chance of survival. Upper ninetieth percentile, even.”

Jinyoung just nods dumbly, zoning out through the rest of the doctor’s speech. He catches the phrases “surgery” and “chemotherapy” and the rest is all just loud ringing in his ears. When the doctor is done talking, Jinyoung stands and bows.

“We’ll call you as soon as we have the surgery scheduled, but you can anticipate it as soon as the end of this week.”

With those words still hanging in the air, Jinyoung stumbles out of the doctor’s office. His manager is waiting for him, reading a magazine. He looks up, sees Jinyoung’s face, which is undoubtedly pale and terrified, and hurries him out of the hospital, disguising him in a mask and hat as they go. Jinyoung just follows where he’s lead, not even feeling his legs move as he watches them carry him out onto the sidewalk and into a taxi.

“What did they say?” the manager asks, gripping his shoulder.

“I have cancer,” Jinyoung says. His voice sounds airy, weightless, foreign. “I have lung cancer.”

“Shit... Really?  _ Shit.” _

His sentiments exactly.

 

//

 

Their plan for the day had been to return to JYPE after his doctor’s appointment, and since both of them are still so shocked, that’s what they do. Instead of heading into dance practice with the rest of the group, though, Jinyoung finds himself being steered directly to the CEO’s office, sat down in a chair, and forced to spill all the sordid details. The CEO justs nods for a few minutes. Jinyoung wants to shake him, slap him, make him feel the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his body, half an hour after the first words were spoken by the doctor. Most of all, he wants to scream until his throat is raw.

“How long did they say the chemotherapy would take?”

“About a month.” He remembered that much, at least.

“And presuming all goes well, you’ll be... functional again after that?”

“Supposedly.”

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” the CEO says, steepling his fingers together and leaning back in his chair. “The news of this diagnosis does not leave this building. Aside from your family, anyone who is not an employee of JYPE does not need to know about this. Since your prognosis is so good, I think we can get by with merely an extended leave of absence for GOT7. The other members will keep doing their appearances and CFs, and you can participate to whatever extent you feel comfortable. Theoretically, we could give you two months. But let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Do I have to leave the dorm?” Jinyoung asks, rubbing his sweaty palms together. No matter how much he loves his parents, he can’t imagine moving back in with them. He hasn’t lived with them in more than six years. He wouldn’t even know what to do with himself.

“Only if you want to,” the CEO says. “We’re willing to supply you with transportation to and from your treatment as needed. I would feel better that way--less likely to be caught by prying eyes. And of course, the other boys may want to help, if they can.”

Jinyoung nods. The other boys. The boys who are all working hard a few floors away, completely unaware that Jinyoung is here, ruining their comeback before it even starts.

 

//

 

The manager gets him back to the dorm without encountering anyone else, thank God. Jinyoung wanders around the silent rooms aimlessly, phone in hand, his parents’ number dialed. He looks through everyone’s rooms, tries to imagine their reactions, tries to imagine what the  _ fuck _ he’s even going to say. Eventually, he ends up back in his own room, takes a deep breath, and presses the call button.

The phone conversation is nearly an hour of his mother sobbing and his father asking again and again if he wants them to come up to Seoul right now. _ No, _ he says.  _ I’ll be fine, _ he says. _ Come for the surgery in a few days, _ he says. He says with his mouth, anyways. His heart is saying  _ someone come hold me because I don’t know what to do and I can’t stop shaking. _

The phone calls to his sisters go a little better, but not much. He reflects that everyone seems to be crying an awful lot. Even the manager wiped away a few tears in the taxi, and yet his own eyes feel dry. If he could only get rid of this damn tremor in his hands...

“Jinyoung-ah?”

The boys are back. Jinyoung departs his tiny room and finds them all in the living room, stepping out of their shoes and setting down their bags with nervous faces.

“Who told you?” Jinyoung asks, not even mad. Just resigned. A little relieved, if he’s honest. He was so busy talking to his family that he had completely forgotten to rehearse.

“The manager said something was wrong, but no one would tell us what it was,” Youngjae says, his ever-present grin eerily absent. Jinyoung just sighs and takes a seat on the couch. The boys take his cue and break from their formation at the doorway, gathering around him like children at story time.

“I have lung cancer.”

A beat of silence, followed by the eruption of several voices at once.

“Wait,  _ what?” _

“That’s not possible.”

“Is that why you’ve been coughing so much?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Is it terminal?”

“What about comeback?” That one from Bambam, who gets a sharp smack on the arm from Jackson in reply.

“They say they’re going to push off comeback for two months, until the chemotherapy is over.”

“You’re getting chemo?”

“Oh my god,  _ oh my god--” _

“It’s fine,” Jinyoung says, looking down at his hands to avoid making eye contact with anyone. He clasps them tightly together to hide the way they tremble. “They say they caught it early, so. That’s good, right? They’re going to do a surgery, and then the chemotherapy, and then I’ll be good as new. It’s fine.”

A hand reaches out to rest on top of Jinyoung’s shaking ones. Jinyoung looks up into the eyes of Mark, which are rimmed in red and dangerously shiny.

“Jinyoung-ah,” is all Mark says, quietly, waveringly, and it’s enough to make Jinyoung lose any scrap of composure he had left. Before he knows it, he’s wailing like a mourner at a funeral, snot and tears and saliva rolling down his face in a gross, sticky mess. He finds himself falling into the joint embrace of six boys, all of whom are also crying, and being cradled and rocked until the trembling stops and he feels hollow and spent.

 

//

 

The day of the surgery, the entire group insists on accompanying him to the hospital. The managers beg them not to go, claiming it will only cause more trouble, especially if they’re recognized, but their pleas are ignored as Jaebum climbs resolutely into the van next to Jinyoung and buckles himself in, crossing his arms over his chest with that trademark Im Jaebum  _ “do not fuck with me” _ expression. Jinyoung can’t help but smile as the rest of the group follows suit, and eventually the manager gives up and sends them off.

 

//

 

“Yugyeom, don’t,” Mark warns. Yugyeom just smiles his shit-eating grin and passes his phone to Jinyoung, who takes it nervously. It’s a video. He presses play.

It’s a video of him, apparently fresh out of surgery, or the recovery room at least, reclining on the partially-upright bed, with oxygen tubing in his nose and his head bobbing back and forth comically. The sound of snickering can be heard behind the camera.

“Jinyoung-hyung, tell me that thing again,” Yugyeom’s voice says, heard but unseen.

Video-Jinyoung weaves his head over to look at Yugyeom. He looks drowsy and confused.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did,” Yugyeom’s voice insists. Jinyoung puts his chin in his fist and wobbles his head back and forth in an dopey imitation of their “Just Right” dance move, complete with exaggerated shoulder shrugging. “The thing you said about socks, remember?”

“Ohhhhh, about how my mouth tastes like dirty socks?” Jinyoung asks, one finger in the air like a comical “eureka!” He waggles the finger back and forth sassily. “But not just anybody’s socks. Not Youngjae’s socks or Mark-hyung’s socks. More like Jaebum-hyung’s socks. Or Bambam’s.”

“How would you even know what my socks taste like?” Bambam’s voice asks from somewhere off-camera. Jinyoung looks directly into the camera lens.

“Oh, I know,” he says with an overdramatic wink. Loud laughter is heard in the background. Jinyoung laughs too, looking around the room with eye crinkles present in full-force. He reaches up to scratch his nose, encounters the nasal cannula, and pulls it off viciously. “Fuck this thing.”

“Jinyoung-ah, put that back in,” Jaebum’s voice warns.

“Jaebumie, suck my dick,” Jinyoung mimics his tone and makes a mocking face. More raucous laughter. Jaebum comes into frame, trying to hide a smile while reaching over to grab the cannula and reinsert it. Just as he’s tucking the tubing behind Jinyoung’s ears, Jinyoung reaches up and grabs his wrist. His eyes are suddenly wide and serious.

“Hyung, why do I need this, when you take my breath away?”

The room erupts in deafening laughter. Jackson can be heard shrieking  _ “Oh my god! Oh my god!” _ Jaebum pulls his wrist back like he’s been burned, his face turning several different shades of pink.

“JJ Cross!” Yugyeom crows from behind the camera.  _ “JJ Cross!” _

Jinyoung just giggles and makes the JJ Project symbol with his hand, holding it up cutely next to his face and sticking his tongue out. The video ends.

“Oh. My. God.”

“I told you not to show him,” Mark sing-songs from where he’s sitting across the room next to Youngjae, both of whom are barely visible amongst all the flowers and balloons that crowd his room. (Gossip spreads quickly, and apparently all of JYPE now knows about his situation. He’s not even surprised. Plus it’s nice to know his sunbaes are thinking about him.)

“What the fuck was I  _ on?” _ Jinyoung asks, passing the phone back to Yugyeom. It’s the day after his surgery, and apart from a stabbing pain in his side and general breathlessness, he feels fine. Or, he did, until he saw that video. Now he feels mortified.

“Something good,” Yugyeom answers with a smile. He flips through his phone, looking fondly at what must be video upon video of blackmail material.

“I wonder what the street name for that stuff is,” Bambam muses absentmindedly, flipping through his own phone.

“Hey, don’t get any ideas,” Jaebum scolds with a gentle smack to the back of Bambam’s head. Bambam rubs the back of his head with a grimace but otherwise ignores him.

“So when are they releasing you, hyung?” Youngjae asks.

“Tomorrow, if everything is going well,” Jinyoung says, scooting himself more upright in bed. It’s only been two days and he’s already sick of this place. His mom has been supplying him with food, and the boys have been supplying the entertainment, but all their efforts don’t mask the fact that he’s in a hospital, and it sucks. He just wants to be home, where he can take a nap without a nurse coming in to take his blood pressure every hour on the hour. Why is that even necessary?

“Are they giving you some good pain meds?” Bambam asks, finally pocketing his phone. Jaebum smacks him again. “Ow,  _ what?” _

“So they say,” Jinyoung replies, feeling along his side at the incision site. He can’t really see it himself, but they say it’s pretty small, less than two centimeters in diameter. Apparently they pulled a tumor the size of a golf ball out of there. He doesn’t want to think about how exactly that happened. They even offered to show him the tumor, which they had to save for further tests. He politely declined.

The thing that freaks him out the most is the PICC line they installed on the inside of his upper left arm. It’s pretty unnerving to look down at your own arm and see a bunch of tubes dangling out of it, dangerously easy to get caught on something and rip out. They say it will come in handy for the chemo, and he believes them, for now. They say it’s either this or being poked on a near daily basis for blood draws and IV infusions. Being a total chicken shit when it comes to needles, he picked the option he’d be unconscious for. He’s just glad that summer is almost over, so no one will be judging him for wearing long sleeves 24/7.

 

//

 

Jinyoung gets back to the dorm the next day and spends the whole weekend on the couch, making the other members wait on him hand and foot. His parents stick around too, coddling him with home-cooked food, but by Sunday night they have to go home, back to the careers that still need their attention, further reminding him that cancer stops for no man. He feels good, though, and he tells them such repeatedly, to ease their minds as they leave. Apart from his annoyingly slow walking pace, a persistent but minor ache at the incision site, and the tendency to get out of breath scarily quickly, it seems like nothing has changed.

Then comes Monday, and with it comes chemo.

The act of receiving chemo is not terrible. Sure his arm burns a little, and it’s kind of cold in the treatment room, but they have free WiFi and all the juice he can drink and these awesome pre-warmed blankets to pile on himself. He actually feels pretty good at the end, weirdly hyper and kinda twitchy, which they tell him is the steroids and the anti-nausea meds. Whatever it is, it’s working.

… Until he gets home, that is, and the med cocktail they gave him begins to wear off, and the shit hits the fan. Youngjae is the only one home when he breaks out in a cold sweat and starts violently vomiting. After the third time emptying his stomach (at this point nothing is even coming out, he’s just gagging uselessly), he gives up going back to his bed and just brings all his blankets into the bathroom, where he makes camp on the floor directly next to the toilet. That’s how Youngjae finds him when he takes a break from his video game: curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, wrapped in blankets and sweating like he’s in a sauna. Youngjae (understandably) freaks out.

“Who should I call? The hospital? Your doctor? An ambulance?”

“Don’t call anyone,” Jinyoung moans into the toilet bowl. “This is normal… I think.”

“Hyung, nothing about this is normal,” Youngjae frets, looking back and forth between his phone, clutched tightly in his hand, and Jinyoung’s miserable figure. “What should I do? What do you want me to do?”

“I dunno, go get some crackers or something,” Jinyoung says, waving him away.

Youngjae speeds off on his errand, returning momentarily with crackers and water. After one sip of water sends Jinyoung back to retching (why does it taste so  _ gross? _ ), Youngjae busies himself by bringing Jinyoung every different kind of beverage he can find in their dorm. By the time Jaebum and Jackson return from dinner, Jinyoung is surrounded by nearly a dozen cups of varying sizes and contents, maybe three of which haven’t made him heave. He has also managed to eat exactly one-half of a rice cracker. Jaebum takes one look at Jinyoung, still curled up on the floor of the bathroom, and pulls out his phone.

“Don’t you fucking dare call an ambulance,” Jinyoung threatens, trying to seem as intimidating as possible from his blanket cocoon. The fact that he can’t finish the sentence without shivering slightly does not inspire confidence in their leader, who sets his face in a grim mask and dials the phone, exiting the bathroom. Jinyoung slumps against the wall defeatedly.

Whomever Jaebum called doesn’t arrive immediately with sirens, which Jinyoung counts as a blessing. He allows himself to be escorted by Youngjae and Jackson back to his own bed, where he is tucked in and supplied with a bucket in case he vomits more. He pretends to fall asleep, just to get them to stop hovering over him and looking like they’re going to cry.

 

//

 

“Shave my head,” Jinyoung commands, holding a pair of electric clippers out to Mark, who is sitting on the couch, eating ramyeon and watching TV. Mark looks at him, noodles still dangling from his lips, and shakes his head quickly, eyes wide. Jinyoung sighs. “Come on, I need someone else to do it because I might miss a spot.”

“No way,” Mark says after slurping up the noodles. He chews for a moment, still shaking his head. “I’m not having that on my conscience.”

“Whimp,” Jinyoung grumbles, retracting the clippers. He runs a hand through his hair, relishing in the feeling but ending up with a clump of dead strands for his trouble. He swallows thickly as he stares at it.  _ No tears, no tears. _ Mark watches him closely, a worried wrinkle developing between his tinted eyebrows. Jinyoung shakes it off, develops a new strategy. “I bet Yugyeom will do it.”

“Yeah, I’ll shave your head,” Yugyeom says with a shrug when Jinyoung finds him on his bed a minute later.

“Aha!” Jinyoung exults, pointing the clippers accusingly at Mark, who followed him from the living room, bowl of ramyeon forgotten. Mark looks distinctly uncomfortable.  _ “He _ wouldn’t do it.”

“Whatever, it’s just hair, right?” Yugyeom says, getting up and taking the clippers from Jinyoung. He leads the way into the bathroom, where he makes Jinyoung sit on the toilet, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. The clippers buzz to life, and Yugyeom smiles a little too enthusiastically. “Let’s do this.”

After less than ten minutes of effort, Yugyeom snaps the clippers off. There’s black hair everywhere, on the floor, on his lap, on the towel around his shoulders. Jinyoung’s head feels lighter, and colder. He reaches up to rub it. It’s… weird. Definitely weird.

“How does it look?”

Mark looks vaguely nauseous, but Yugyeom tilts his head to the side critically.

“Not bad. You have a nice skull shape. No weird moles. Really, it could’ve been much worse.”

“That’s reassuring,” Jinyoung says, rolling his eyes. He stands and pushes Yugyeom aside to get a look at the mirror.

It’s pretty freaky, if he’s being brutally honest with himself. His milky-white scalp, which has not seen direct light of day since he was an infant, looks almost ghostly underneath the dark fuzz all over it. Between that and his ever-thinning face, thanks to a diet of anti-nausea meds and very little else, he definitely looks distinctly unwell.  _ It’s all right, _ he assures himself. It’ll take some getting used to, but…  _ it’s all right. _

“Okay, who has hats?”

When prompted, Jackson offers up his entire impressive collection of snapbacks, but most of them are too loose on his now-hairless head, and don’t cover the lack of hair around his ears and neck. Youngjae offers up his fedoras and other brimmed hats, but without bangs, all of them make him look like some kind of funeral director, which is not a thought he wants to dwell on. Although Bambam offers his hat collection, Jinyoung doesn’t even bother trying them on. Bambam’s taste is a little too eccentric for the task at hand. Eventually Mark’s beanies surface, to resounding approval from the group. With the droopy brim tugged down, no one can tell Jinyoung is as bald as an egg. Plus they keep his head warm, and they’re soft. Mark offers the entire lot of them to Jinyoung, who picks out a few and returns the rest, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty.

“I’ll give them back to you as soon as I can buy my own,” Jinyoung promises, clutching the soft hats in his hands. The one that’s currently on his head smells faintly like Mark’s shampoo. His eyes start to prickle.

“I don’t need them back,” Mark says with a shrug. “I’ll just wear snapbacks more often, no big deal.”

Jinyoung tries not to feel too selfish. It’s just one more thing this whole ordeal has taken from his members. First their general peace of mind (the diagnosis alone was burdensome enough, much less his following illness), then the option to turn on bright lights or play loud music (they aggravate his headaches, which are almost constant), then the luxury of brewing coffee in the dorm (the smell is suddenly repulsive to him), and now their hats.

He tries not to feel selfish. He fails.

 

//

 

“Jinyoung-oppa!”

The young female voice snaps Jinyoung out of his daze. He’s messing around on his phone in between songs at the group’s dance practice. It’s the first time he’s made it in public since he started chemo nearly three weeks ago. Despite his poor circulation and general inability to travel long distances, he insisted on tagging along, if only to get out of the dorm for an hour or two. The members are out of the room taking a water break, but as he hasn’t actually exerted himself physically (beyond pushing play on the computer and holding the camera up to record them for critique later), he opted to stay put. Plus, underneath Jackson’s puffy down jacket, he’s finally warm, and he isn’t going to jeopardize that by moving around.

The voice’s owner is none other than Twice’s leader, Jihyo. She and the entire flock of girls (and ‘flock’ is really the best term for it--they move together like a single unit, fluttery and shy) are approaching him, one of them holding a big gift basket.

“We wanted to give you this, and say we hope you’re feeling better,” Jihyo says, motioning forward Dahyun, who presents the basket with a deep bow. His first day back at the studio was a spur-of-the-moment decision, which means that the girls couldn’t have known he would be there, which means that they previously prepared this gift and waited for his return to give it to him. He wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Since he started chemo? Since the surgery? The girls fidget nervously, and it’s enough to snap Jinyoung out of his daze. He quickly takes the basket, trying not to think about how the candy and sweets are completely wasted on him, whose mouth makes everything taste like moldy cardboard. Nevertheless, the rest of the members will probably enjoy it.

“Thank you very much,” Jinyoung says, putting as much feeling into his voice and smile as he can muster. The girls stare at him intensely. Some of them look nervous, like they’re not sure how to behave around a sick person, some of them look generically friendly, like nothing is wrong, and some of them look like they’re about to burst into tears at any moment.

When Jinyoung thinks back on it, many of them became trainees shortly after he did and watched him debut with Jaebum, crash and burn, and come back again as a part of GOT7. Despite the fact that he wouldn’t call himself close with them, these girls are invested in him, and it shows in their earnest faces. He bites back his ever-growing cynicism for a moment and allows himself to feel genuinely touched at their thoughtfulness.

“I’ll eat well,” Jinyoung says with as much of a bow as he can muster from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. It might be disrespectful, but like hell is he standing up and losing his warm spot. Regardless, the girls seem to brighten up a little.

“Oppa fighting!” Sana cheers, raising a fist in the air. Several others repeat the cheer, and after a few more awkward bows, the girls leave. Jinyoung tries not to think about the way Nayeon and Jungyeon clutch each other tightly as they go.

 

//

 

“I’m not going,” Jinyoung says resolutely. He’s curled up under his blankets, deliberately ignoring the manager’s worried look.

“You have to go,” the manager says, rubbing at his eyes and looking absolutely exhausted. “It’s your last round of chemotherapy. If you don’t go now, all of this was pointless.”

“I don’t care,” Jinyoung says, sinking further under the covers. “I actually feel good today. I ate breakfast. I don’t have a headache. And getting more chemo is just going to fuck it all up. I’m not going.”

“Jinyoung.”

“Hyung.”

“Jinyoung, you have to go. This isn’t exactly optional.”

“Wanna bet?” Jinyoung challenges, raising an eyebrow at the manager. “Unless you’re going to drag me out of here kicking and screaming, I’m staying put.”

The manager sighs and leaves his room. Jinyoung knows it’s not over, not even close. But maybe he can stall long enough that they’ll miss his appointment, and they’ll have to push it off another day. Maybe he can have a good day for once.

Jaebum enters his room without knocking, his expression stormy.

“You're kidding, right?” Jaebum asks, crossing his arms, jutting out his chin.

“What do you think?” Jinyoung retorts, perfectly content to act like a child if everyone is going to treat him like one. Since when did everyone gain this air of superiority over him?

“I think you're being stupid,” Jaebum snaps. His eyes are steely and cold. He's pissed, and ready for a fight. Good. Jinyoung is more than ready to give him one. “What was the point of all this if you're just going to quit now? Why even go through the surgery and all the chemo just to give up at the very end?”

“Fuck off,” Jinyoung mutters, not liking how this is suddenly all his fault. As  _ if _ . He didn't ask for cancer. “You don't know what it’s like.”

“And whose fault is that?” Jaebum asks, temper rising with every word until he's nearly shouting. “Maybe if you actually talked to us about all this once in awhile, instead of hiding from the world and lying whenever we ask if you're okay, we wouldn't be in this situation, hmm? We all know you're sick, Jinyoung, it's not a fucking  _ secret _ . And if your plan this whole time has been to string us along into thinking you were actually going to fight this thing just to give up at the very end, maybe you should've left a month ago and gone back to Jinhae to die in peace. Maybe then the rest of us could get some sleep at night, instead of constantly worrying about your pathetic ass.”

“Are you saying you wish I was dead?” Jinyoung asks around the sudden lump in his throat. Jaebum shrugs, his expression cold.

“Are you? Because that's all I hear when you say you're quitting now.”

Jinyoung looks away, hoping the downward cast of his face is enough to hide the tears that are slipping down it. It's too much, all of this cancer bullshit. Everyone acts like he's supposed to be this saintly person all the time, suffering silently while looking prettily pathetic in the background of everyone else's lives. What can he even say when they ask how he's feeling? No one will understand his answer. They'll just get freaked out when they hear how dark his thoughts actually are. Sometimes he does wish he was dead. Sometimes he does want to give up. He's just  _ tired _ . So damn tired that it feels like a year's worth of sleep won't erase the bags from under his eyes.

“You have ten minutes to get ready.” Jaebum leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Jinyoung begins to cry in full force. He keeps crying as he crawls out of bed, as he dresses himself in clothes that fit him well a month ago but now hang off of his thin frame, as he packs a bag to take with him to the treatment center. Once he's started, he can't be bothered to stop, and he continues to bawl as he makes his way out of his room and to the front door, where the manager is waiting, a pitying look on his face. Apart from his hiccuping sobs, the dorm is eerily quiet, the other members watching him silently, worried looks on their faces. Jaebum is nowhere to be seen.

Jinyoung ignores them all, shaking off the reassuring hand the manager places on his shoulder.

“Let's just get this over with,” Jinyoung chokes out, leading the way out of the dorm and down to the taxi waiting below.

 

//

 

The day he goes back into the hospital for the tests to determine whether the chemo was successful is the most stressful day of his life. More nerve-wrecking than the day he auditioned for JYPE, more terrifying than the day they cancelled JJ Project, more anticipated than the day they debuted as GOT7. His heart pounds all the way through the x-rays and scans and blood tests. He puts all of his concentration on the effort of staying still through the tests, instead pondering every possible outcome, like he wants to.

When he enters the consultation room, the doctor is smiling.

“Congratulations,” is all Jinyoung hears before his mind completely short-circuits and he breaks down in tears. He catches a few other phrases, “success,” “remission,” “five-year plan,” and his personal favorite, “cancer-free.” The doctor claps him in the back, hard, grinning from ear to ear.

When he gets out to the waiting room, he sees his manager sitting with hands tightly clasped, leg jiggling up and down anxiously. He sees Jinyoung's tearful face and leaps out of his seat immediately.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

In lieu of words, Jinyoung jumps him with the most enthusiastic, full-body hug he's ever given a manager. With his legs wrapped around the manager's waist and the manager stumbling slightly to hold him up, he laughs--one of the first real laughs he's heard from himself in over a month.

“It's over. It’s finally over.”

 

//

 

It isn't really over, of course, because after the announcement to his members (they all cry, even Jaebum, who keeps looking at him with wet eyes and rubbing his bald head even though he knows Jinyoung hates that), and the positively massive party JYPE throws for him a few days later, which almost the entire company attends, it's back to work. Comeback is just around the corner, after all.

“Hyung, take a break,” Youngjae says, watching him nervously as he pants his way through some of their old choreography. He's cancer-free, but he's also free of quite a few kilos and a significant chunk of his lung. The muscles that he had taken for granted his whole life are thin and weak. He still can't make it all the way through a song without pausing to catch his breath.

“Can't… stop,” Jinyoung gasps, attempting to execute the third chorus of “If You Do." He probably should have started with a slightly less strenuous choreo, but who is he kidding? All of their choreos are strenuous, for fuck’s sake. He's kicking himself for personally contributing to the Mount Everest that is these consecutive heel-toes. “No time… to stop.”

He makes it through the whole song, and yeah, it gets a little sloppy at the end, but he does it, and it's definitely worth the lack of air as he collapses to the ground. Youngjae scurries over with a bottle of sports drink and a towel.

“You're overdoing it, hyung,” Youngjae murmurs as Jinyoung guzzles the drink, breathing heavily. Jinyoung just grabs the towel and rubs it all over his face and still-bald head. The coordi noonas have assured him that they’ll figure something out if his hair isn’t back by the time they film the new music video, but it still nags at him. It’s been a week since the all-clear and his scalp is still blank and shiny. Shouldn’t there be something,  _ anything, _ there by now?

“No such thing, Youngjae-ah,” Jinyoung says with a grim smile, trying to slow his breathing. “Gotta make up for lost time.”

“You’ve been working non-stop since they said you could dance again,” Youngjae argues, hugging his knees. “This can’t be good for your lungs.”

“Only one way to find out,” Jinyoung says, hauling himself to his feet and starting the next song.

 

//

 

“Let us know if you need a break, okay?” Mark says quietly, giving Jinyoung’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Jinyoung tries not to roll his eyes.

“Come on, let’s start.”

It’s finally his chance to learn the new choreography that the rest of the group has been busy perfecting for the last month. Because of Jinyoung, they’ve worked on this dance for longer than any comeback before, leaving them so over-rehearsed that they could do this in their sleep. Jinyoung has watched it enough times to know the moves in theory, but putting it into practice and figuring out where he fits in the formation is a different story entirely.

It takes a few hours before he has the moves down. The members are trying to be helpful, explaining the choreography in different ways so he understands. They don’t mean to be condescending, but Jinyoung can’t help but feel belittled. Only a few months ago, he was the one creating dance moves and teaching them to the group. Now he has six boys interrupting his every move with  _ “No, it’s like this, hyung,” _ and  _ “Jinyoung-ah, it looks better if you…” _

“Let’s move on, all right?” Jinyoung huffs, fed up after his nth correction from Yugyeom. Jaebum and Mark exchange pointed looks. Jinyoung takes a deep breath to keep from letting loose a biting comment. “Come on, I want to learn the blocking.”

“Break first,” Jackson says, closing the computer to keep Jinyoung from starting the music again himself. Jinyoung wants to scream in frustration. There’s nothing in the world he hates more than being coddled.

“I’m  _ fine. _ Let’s just do this.”

“Who said anything about you, Jinyoung-ah?” Jackson retorts, acting clueless. “I’m tired. I want a break.”

Jinyoung looks up and down at Jackson’s distinctly non-sweaty, non-breathless body and rolls his eyes. Jackson merely shrugs and takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Jinyoung ignores him, and opens up the laptop again.

“Whatever. You can take a break if you want. I’m going to keep working.”

The laptop screen closes in front of him, catching his fingers painfully. He yanks them back, hissing, and looks up to see Jaebum holding the laptop screen down.

“New rule,” Jaebum says, wearing his best poker face. “Everyone takes breaks together. It’s good for morale.”

“Oh my  _ god, _ this is driving me crazy!” Jinyoung shouts, spinning around to face the rest of the members. “If you all think I can’t handle it, just say so!”

“No one said that, hyung,” Youngjae protests lamely, averting his gaze.

“Then why is everyone treating me like a fucking child? I’m not going to break!”

“Better safe than sorry,” Bambam contributes, fiddling with his water bottle.

“If you guys don’t trust me to know my own limits, this is never going to work,” Jinyoung says, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of warding off the tension headache that’s been building in his temples all day.

“I found you sleeping on the floor in the practice room at two a.m. last night,” Yugyeom interjects. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘trustworthy’ to me.”

“So? We’ve all done that before,” Jinyoung protests.

“You _ did _ actually faint a few days ago,” Jaebum adds. Jinyoung looks at Mark, whose guilt is written all over his face. Jinyoung feels his own face grow hot in embarrassment and something not unlike rage.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Jinyoung grits out. Mark hangs his head.

“I was worried.”

“We’re all worried, Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson says, standing up and gesticulating with his characteristic vigor. “You’re working too hard. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“If I’d know this was going to be an intervention, I wouldn’t have come,” Jinyoung mutters. “You know what? I’m just gonna go. We’re not getting anything done here.”

“Don’t be like that, Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebum says softly, grabbing at his arm to keep him from leaving. “We’re just trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

Jinyoung pulls his arm free and heads to the door, taking extra care to slam it behind him on his way out.

 

//

 

“Good as new,” the make-up artist announces, putting the finishing touches on his lips. Jinyoung holds up the mirror in his hand. Between the wig and the extra-thick layer of make-up, he almost looks normal. Well, normal by idol standards. And if his eyes are a little wet it’s because of the mascara, not because he’d forgotten what he used to look like before the cancer wreaked havoc on his body. Not because he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever look the same again.

“Look at you!” Jackson coos, coming up behind him and putting his hands on Jinyoung’s shoulders. “Wow, you can’t even tell the hair isn’t real!”

“Yeah, I just hope it stays on all day,” Jinyoung says with a small smile. He sets the mirror down and stands up, taking a deep breath. “When do we start?”

“In about a half an hour,” Jackson says, absentmindedly. He looks at Jinyoung intensely for a moment, before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him in for a bone-crushing hug. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Jackson, I know,” Jinyoung says, laughter muffled by the press of Jackson’s shoulder against his face. Jackson pushes him back, holding him at arm’s length and looking wounded. “You’re supposed to say you love me too.”

“I love you too, Jackson.”

“That’s better.” Jackson pulls him in for another hug, cradling the back of Jinyoung’s head with his hand so he can’t escape. “You’re gonna do great today. You are so talented and you work so hard and we’re all so amazed at how quickly you improved. I never could’ve done what you did.”

“Let me go, you’re embarrassing me.” Jinyoung squirms against the hug and against the affectionate words. He can’t keep the smile off of his face, though.

Jackson lets go, but not without a quick peck to the cheek that has Jinyoung shoving at him, laughing. Jackson just grins and runs away, shrieking his hyena-like laugh as he goes.

 

//

 

“Hyung, you’re crushing my hand.”

Mark looks startled, dropping Jinyoung’s hand like it’s on fire.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous,” Mark says. His eyes are wide as he looks around the backstage area of Inkigayo. It’s their first official comeback performance, and although the rehearsals have gone well so far, anything can happen during a live broadcast.

“It’ll be fine,” Jinyoung assures him. Mark looks at him for a long moment before nodding absentmindedly and looking away. After a few seconds, his hand finds Jinyoung’s again. Jinyoung squeezes it reassuringly. “Since when do you get so nervous?”

“Since cancer happened,” Mark mutters under his breath. He looks up at Jinyoung again, brow creased in worry. “You ate something, right? You’re not feeling light headed or anything?”

“I feel fine. Great even,” Jinyoung says with a smile and a shrug. He really does feel great. It’s been five weeks since his last chemotherapy treatment and he thinks he’s never felt this good in his life. It’s probably not true; he’s still easily short of breath, and he’s definitely skinnier than he was before, but it’s not scary-skinny anymore, so he’ll take it. Plus his hair is finally starting to grow back. Right now it’s just dark fuzz, a centimeter or two at most, but it’s better than nothing. They say in another month he can ditch the wigs for good. He can’t wait.

“Well just tell me if you start feeling tired.”

“In the middle of the broadcast?” Jinyoung asks with a chuckle. Mark shrugs sheepishly. Jinyoung pulls him in for a back hug, wrapping his arms around Mark’s neck and resting his chin on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m okay. Really. I’ll be fine.”

“I just worry, you know?” Mark says quietly, holding onto Jinyoung’s forearms as he looks out at the empty stage. It’s only a few minutes until their stage starts. Jinyoung can hear the rest of the members laughing and joking around behind them as they get hooked up to their microphones. It’ll be their turn next. “Anything can happen out there.”

“You’re right, anything can happen. Like, we can win the whole damn thing.”

Jinyoung doesn’t have to see Mark’s face to know he’s rolling his eyes. He pulls out of Jinyoung’s grip and spins away, heading off to get his mic hooked up. Jinyoung laughs and follows him, catching up and linking an arm through Mark’s, pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Eww,” Bambam whines when he sees them, but there’s a smile on his face. “Are you guys back to being gross again? I thought we were done with that.”

“Never,” Jinyoung says, squeezing Mark’s arm tightly. Mark wriggles free, smiling, and goes to get his microphone. Jackson practically prances into the spot Mark vacated, hooking his arm through Jinyoung’s and leaning his face in.

“Me next, me next,” Jackson coos, tapping his cheek for Jinyoung to kiss. Jinyoung just laughs, and Jackson pouts. “What? You’ll kiss Mark but not me?”

“You kiss enough for everyone combined,” Jaebum says, tucking his mic pack into his back pocket. Jackson lets go of Jinyoung’s arm and stomps over to Jaebum, already in full-blown lecture mode. Jaebum just watches Jackson gesticulate wildly, trying to keep a fond smile off of his face and failing.

“Without me, this group would never say ‘I love you’ to each other, would never communicate--”

Jinyoung slips away to quickly get his own mic hooked up, returning just in time to hear the end of Jackson’s tirade.

“--just because you’re not in touch with your feelings doesn’t mean that we all have to be emotionally inept, Jaebum-ssi.”

Jaebum just laughs and pulls Jackson into a headlock, shaking him a few times as Jackson hollers. Yugyeom and Bambam join in the attack, tickling Jackson’s sides until he’s shrieking laughter.

“GOT7, you’re on in five,” the production assistant announces, arriving to herd them back to the wings of the stage. She sees Jaebum, still holding Jackson in a headlock, and frowns. “Try to not mess up your make-up. We don’t have time to fix it.”

Jaebum releases Jackson so quickly that he drops to the floor with an undignified squeak, causing the whole group to burst out in laughter. After being shushed by the PA, Jaebum helps Jackson back to his feet, and the group gathers in their ritual pre-show huddle. Jinyoung looks around at all of their faces and knows he’s smiling like an idiot and doesn’t care one little bit.

“Okay, everyone do your best,” Jaebum says, putting his hand in the center of the huddle, and everyone piles their hands in. Jinyoung’s hand is lost in the middle somewhere, so he can’t tell who squeezes it gently, but his smile widens all the same.

“Ready?”

_ “G-O-T-7 jjai!” _


End file.
